


Instructor's Pet

by 3988Akasha



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ballet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the DD24x found <a href="http://mcfassy.livejournal.com/30728.html#cutid1">here.</a> And the conversations about said pictures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instructor's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Hugs to [](http://grayraven.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://grayraven.livejournal.com/)**grayraven** for suggesting I make Michael an instructor. This isn't really a continuation of the comment fic, but it is still Michael as a ballerina...
> 
> Beta'd by bones_2_be

“Lessons are a vital part of developing your skills. Group lessons are two and a half hours, four days a week,” Michael explained, the speech rolling off his lips without thought.

The young man in front of him had been dancing since he was a child, as they all had, but Michael could also tell that ballet wasn’t a vital, inseparable part of his life. In fact, if Michael were to bet, a game that amused James to no end, he’d guess the guy wouldn’t make it through a month’s worth of lessons.

“Four days a week?” the young guy parroted. “I’m not sure that my work schedule would allow me to do that. They have me work the close shift a lot.”

Michael smiled, the one that showed all his teeth. He would’ve won the bet. “I understand, you have to make the choice that is best for you, but if you can’t commit at this time, I don’t think my school is the best choice for you.”

The young guy, why couldn’t Michael remember his name? shuffled a bit closer. He looked up at Michael from beneath his lashes.

“I might be able to talk with my boss about switching my shifts, or I could pay more for private lessons,” he pressed, nearly nose to nose with Michael.

“I don’t offer private lessons. If you’re serious about my school, and want to talk with your boss, I have a new class starting next week.”

Michael took a step back, forcing distance between them.

“If you’re sure about the private lessons – ”

“I am.”

“I guess I’ll have to talk to my boss tomorrow about switching to days. I think these lessons will do really good things for my dancing.”

“You let me know.”

Michael kept a pleasant smile on his face until the guy left. He raked a hand through his hair, mussing it more than it already was, and shook his head. For everything he loved about ballet, there were definitely things he didn’t like about it, like the guy who’d just left. Most of the time it wasn’t an issue, he didn’t think about it, but sometimes it was a bit too much; Michael grew tired of men using ballet as an excuse to meet other men, men like him.

“You look tense,” James observed, his arms wrapping around Michael’s waist.

Michael hadn’t heard James come in, but that wasn’t a shock since James had a habit of showing up soon after closing.

“Mmmm,” Michael felt himself relax as James rubbed his lower back.

“You haven’t even changed yet.”

James’ voice ghosted over Michael, and his hands moved lower, palming Michael’s ass. Michael smirked, knowing how much James liked seeing him dressed out for practice, leggings, no shirt. His smirk faded quickly as James’ hands continued to knead Michael’s flesh, working the muscles. 

“Last guy just left,” Michael mumbled, voice as relaxed as his muscles.

Michael noticed James’ hands falter slightly, but he soon recovered, which was good because it meant James didn’t wish to discuss it. James’ inherent jealousy, something to do with loads of attractive, fit men in tights, dancing and touching each other, about Michael’s profession had been a constant source of both amusement and irritation for Michael from the beginning.

“Really?” James asked, voice unable to keep his voice neutral.

“Yes, he wanted private lessons,” Michael responded.

“Don’t they all?” James teased.

Michael looked over his shoulder. “I’ve offered to give you private lessons, you know.”

“I thought you didn’t do private lessons.”

“For you, I could be persuaded to make an exception.”

“I think you want to see me in a pair of those ridiculous tights.”

Michael licked his lips at the image that sprang to mind. “I might. We both know you like seeing me like this. It’s not a far jump to believe I’d want to see you dressed like this, too.”

“When you’re _dressed_ like this,” James began, hands moving lower, movements becoming light, teasing touches on his ass, “I’m rather inclined to bend you over the nearest flat surface, tear a hole in these – ” James pulled the elastic material out before allowing it to snap back against Michael’s ass. “And fuck you until you can’t stand.”

Michael shuddered, tempted to tell James to just do it then. “If I allow you to do that again, James, I won’t have any left. You’ve torn holes in all of my other practice leggings.”

“That’s a pity,” James whispered over Michael’s neck, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the nape of his neck, ghosting over the top bit of his shoulder.

“I don’t think he wanted lessons,” Michael said, hoping the subject change would dissuade James from tearing a hole in his leggings anyway.

“Neither do I,” James agreed, moving away slightly.

Michael turned around to face James. “He did say he’d been dancing his whole life, but when I mentioned how frequent the group lessons were he suddenly wanted private lessons.”

“Is he going to do the group lessons, you think?”

“He said he was going to change his work schedule.”

“I hardly blame him. I’d change my work schedule to come and ogle you during lessons,” James said, his licked his lips sinfully.

“I don’t think he’ll last a month. And you can ogle my ass anytime you feel like, James.”

“Not up to the rigors of Fassy’s Ballet Boot Camp, is he?”

Michael rolled his eyes at James’ nickname for Michael’s rather intense class. “No, I don’t think he is. I think he just wanted to – ”

“I’m sure,” James interrupted.

“Come here.” Michael crooked his finger at James.

James fought it for a moment, eyes serious and cloudy, but then he moved, bridging the distance between them until Michael could reach out and grab him. Which he did; Michael pulled James to him, enjoying the feel of James being in his arms, the contrast of his clothing rubbing against Michael’s own bare skin. He lowered his head slowly until his lips hovered scant inches from James; James closed the nearly invisible gap, and Michael breathed a sigh of relief into the kiss, his arms tightening around James. The kiss was lazy, slow, Michael’s arms tightened around James, offering him reassurance, the knowledge that he was the only one who’d ever be like this, this close, this _intimate_.

“We should go home,” James breathed the words against Michael’s lips.

“Want to get me into something more comfortable?” Michael teased.

“I want to get you into a pair of rip-able leggings.”

Michael grinned, mind whirling with the promise in James’ suggestion, and nodded. “Let’s go then.”

  **~FIN~**


End file.
